


Long live the King and Queen of Cintra

by StarryNightFire



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-02-22 11:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22715413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarryNightFire/pseuds/StarryNightFire
Summary: Loves and devotions in the eyes of the one and only duo, King Eist and Queen Calanthe.
Relationships: Calanthe Fiona Riannon/Eist Tuirseach
Comments: 5
Kudos: 43





	1. Loves in the wood

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't know what I'm doing, but I want to be seen worthy of this holy Eist/Calanthe fandom so I wrote something.

“We shouldn’t make this into a habit, you know it’s-” Calanthe didn’t get to finish as he takes her lips into his. It was one of those casual horse rides in the woods that he usually does with the Queen every time he arrives in Cintra. The frosty morning made her hands cold in his, but her lips are as warm as the summer heat, and her cheeks were as red when he pulls away.

“I presume you mean our horse riding session.” He said with his signature smirk. She rolls her eyes and playfully pushes his chest. They had the forest all by themselves and he was taking every opportunity he had with her.

They were fooling around and swapping tales, from won battle to drunk Skellligen and boring Cintran ceremony. It has escaped his notice how, from small talk turns into the Queen of Cintra with her back against a tree trunk and her hands tucking his hair while he kisses her neck. And he also couldn’t remember how these words manage to come out of his mouth.

“Marry me” He said breathlessly. He pulls away to press a kiss on her cheek, lingering on her soft skin “Marry me and we will run away, our days can only be count with salt, breeze and waves.” He said between heavy breaths, his lips close to her ears, afraid that his words of love and devotion might slip away. He doesn’t know why he’s saying these things. For he knows her answer would be the same as the last time when he asked her in the castle hallway. And the same as the first time when he asked for her hands in her mother’s garden.

“My beloved Calanthe, my queen, my warrior, I shall make you the happiest woman every single day.” He continues, the image of Calanthe soft smile and braids loose, on the deck of his ship, sailing away from politics, dull adviser and plain brick walls make his knees go weak. He whispered more in her ears, all while her arms around his waist and her head on his chest, then he ends with a kiss on her forehead and they stay there for what feels like forever. He has never been so open and raw before, and his third proposal has left them both vulnerable and speechless. He could tell by the hard features melting away from Calanthe’s eyes that he wasn’t the only one who is stunt by the outburst.

“Eist” Was all she said before she huffs out a small laugh. He was rather good at reading her stoic expression and harsh insults, but with her arms wrap tightly around him and her distance gaze, he really has no clue of what she wants.  
“Yes, my darling?” He strokes her cheek lightly, tracing her cheekbones with his coarse finger and studying her define features with his oceanic eyes. This time she looked up, and even though her words were playful, her eyes was as serious as when she demanded Crach to treat Pavetta right if he wants to be the future King of Cintra.

“It’s a really tempting offer, Jarl of Skellige.” She moves her hands through his hair and make him look into her chocolate eyes to understand that, once in a while, when he was away with the sea, she really did consider such an event to happen.  
“But I have a country to lead and a daughter to be taken care of.” She finishes and his heart drops just as her hands return to her side. He thought he was well prepared for such rejection, but it didn’t stop the hurt to flicker through his eyes.

“But if Crach…” Any fool could have sensed the desperation in his voice, his hand reaching for hers. She sighs but didn’t move away from his contact. With a heavy heart, she whispers to him:  
“I want you. I’ve never wanted any man like I want you, Eist Tuirseach.” She waits until he shifts his attention on her “I care about you. And even though the world refuses to change, I will still care for you.” That was not all that she wanted to say to him, for it is harder for her to lay all her feelings out in the open like Eist. It wasn’t enough to express her affection for him, so she pulls his tunic and kisses him fiercely instead, her hand clinging to the material of his shirt. She needs him to understand that although she is not ready to say the word she wants to, when she could, she would mean it with all her heart. She didn’t get far when a distant voice interrupts them.

“My Queen, our scout has been placed and…” The man stops short and eyed Eist suspiciously. He had managed to make some friendly acquaintances from the visits he paid for Cintra, but he can’t blame the lad for being cautious.  
“Speak, Vissegerd.” The lioness shifts into her battle face, her voice clear and firm.  
“We suspect they might attack tonight.” Vissegerd looked at Calanthe hand intertwined with Eist and he felt some sort of pride when she didn’t attempt to loosen their grip.  
“Prepare the man, wait until noon and if they’re still near our border, we will finish them before they can even start.” She said without hesitation, “I shall not miss my daughter's birthday feast for some weak bastard and impeccable timing.” The commander bows and rides back to the castle. Calanthe was by her horse before he even turned around, her shoulder tensed. He made a promise to ease off those tension once she returns.

“I won’t give up, my Calanthe. Destiny has bound us together. And so has love.” He said confidently and even with her back turned against him, he could feel her smiling. “Tell Crach to mind his manners.” Was all she said as she rides away.


	2. The heart of Cintra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A throwback of when Eist and Calanthe met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m still super inexperienced about all the writing so please be nice. Being new here really stresses me out but I’m also very excited.

_“I don’t see the point of me being there. You know my disdain for marriage.” His brother shakes his head as Eist put his mug down heavily, spilling the beer._

_“I wouldn’t ask that of you if my injuries have not prevented me from sailing to Cintra.” Eist nods in defeat, only agreeing because it would be unruly of him to let his brother go to the Yule right after battle, let alone not following the King’s order._

_“Mousesack will accompany you, brother. Take some time off the sea, it might be rewarding, for all I know.” The Druid and the King would have laughed at how true and rewarding Eist’s life would become._

_\---------------------_

_“May want to pull out your charm, sir. She’s quite a gem.” Mousesack whispers to him when the Queen walks in the throne room, her midnight blue dress and the gold crown on her head capture everyone’s attention. It had been a year since King Roegner passed away and the suitors from all places have circles around her like hungry wolves. He studies her from afar, watching the way her head held high and her face devout of any emotions. He made no attempt to avert his gaze when she caught him staring. She did not make her way to him until the feast have grew merrier._

_“Eist Tuirseach, Jarl of Skellige.” Her adviser whispered in her ears. A small gesture with her hand, and they all scramble away, so has Mousesack who excuse himself right after._

_“Your majesty.” He bows. She was even more breathtaking up close, and her smell is beyond intoxicating, he noted to himself. “You’re certainly a new face to the court. Not that I haven’t seen rowdy islanders before, your King was just here last fall.” He chuckles at the Queen's expression, his people always manage to make an impression._

_“I’ve spent most of my years as a sailor, your majesty.” She nods and took the ale he offers, drinking all of it in one go. Eist found that to be impressive and strangely attractive, a smile slowly creeping up his lips._

_“And are you here to change your lifestyle, sir Tuirseach? From a sailor to the new King perhaps?” He took a swig of his beer and leaned back on the cold brick wall. "I'm afraid I'm not a good fit for this position." Being the second son and a Jarl, he has always had greater freedom than his brother and sister, his responsibility and worries were about the navy only._

_"What’s so captivating about the ocean that could forfeits you from a throne and a woman to keep your bed warm?"_

_"Mainly her appetite, your majesty. I’ve seen ships being swallowed whole, a rather splendid view." He said half jokingly and watched as the corner of her mouth turned up, and an amusing fire that burns in her eyes. What a lucky sailor he is, stumbling on such a rare majestic sight._

_\--------------------_

_She was quite taken back, for she had expected him to boast about Skellige's ships and weapons or at least even come up with some sort of alliance like all the others. But he only stands still looking at her like she's a goddess while she makes her way through noble man. At least that's what she wants to believe, she likes the feeling of being adored, no matter how selfish it sounds. She's the Lioness of Cintra after all._

_"I found it rather strange for a man who is not interested in my throne to study me rather thoroughly.” The party was becoming dull by the minute, and even though she would never admit to it to anyone, she craves her bed and Pavetta's little kisses. But for now, she is thankful for the strong build Jarl and his dazzling charm. He's decent company, a good looking one too._

_"Your throne and you are two different prizes" His murmurs, voice barely audible, for people have gotten drunker and the room filled with incoherent yelling._

_“Am I just something you must conquer, sir Eist?” She said with a frown, her mood instantly dropped for she has such high hope for the Jarl of Skellige. Here she thought he was different from other noblemen. It could as well be an innocuous thought for someone as classy as him, but it didn't stop her from feeling irritated._

_"My Queen, I mean no offences. To be the King of a powerful throne can be....fulfilling, but to belong to the Lioness of Cintra heart, it would be beyond any man’s happiness." He bows reverently, she watches as his chapped lips pressed into a warm smile, standing out on his dark skin. It seems sincere enough._

_"I only meant it with admiration and respect for the glorious Lioness." She scoffs, breaking her normally composed face._

_“3000 of my men died in the battle of Hochebuz so they can take me seriously." She said bitterly, her blood boils at the thought of one of these bastards trying to take over the throne. Out of the corner of her eyes, Eist nods solemnly, for he is a warrior himself, somebody who has seen his soldiers stack in pile and survive long enough to see what war have done to people. But Tuirseach was a man, and that said enough. King Roegner was the ruler thanks to their loveless marriage, but right in this castle, she was born and raised in the heart of Cintra. She made a promise to herself and her country right then and there, that no man shall ever take away the title she fought so hard for, never again._

_"I would walk in with blood and bruises again if that’s what it takes for a little respect."_

And that indeed was what she did, 4 years later, smirking in the throne room as she takes in the lords and ladies fear. Soaking with dirt and bloody armour, her eyes shine up the whole court. The bard music starts to play and people return to the festive mood. She finally allows herself to make eye contact with the handsome Jarl of Skellige, a familiar face that brings her another strange pump of adrenaline. He smiles at her and wink, his hair swept back for the royal occasion and his teeth dazzling white. She rolls her eyes, as she always does. At least his presence will lift the gloomy mood her daughter is going to bring.


	3. Destiny and Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rather memorable day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a bit long to write because it’s not entirely based on my imagination. I also couldn’t decide if I should use the book or the tv shows version so I decided to merge xP

“Your majesty“ He leans across the table, the bard Drogodar and an empty chair for princess Pavetta fill the space between him and the Queen. “There are good reasons, I am sure, for your dedication to the lord from Fourhorn, but it's high time we saw Princess Pavetta.” He politely suggested, pulling Calanthe away from her conversation.  
“What are we waiting for? Surely not for Crach an Craite to get drunk? And even that moment is almost here.” His nephew’s antics were getting on his nerves, and Calanthe smirking at the enigmatic lord the whole time was not helping.  
“You’re right as usual, Eist.” She gave him one of her court smiles, but slightly warmer. “Indeed, I do have important matters to discuss with the Honourable Ravix. I'll dedicate some time to you too, but you know my principle: duty then pleasure.” She gave him another glance before returning to her deep conversation with Lord from Fourhorn. He reluctantly turns back to his duty of keeping his nephew’s temper down. 

\--------------------  
Duty before pleasure. She thought that was subtle enough for the intelligent Jarl, but he was still staring dagger at Ravix from the end of the table. If only he knew that she was discussing business with a stubborn witcher to assure her daughter’s fate in safe hand.

“Honourable gentleman!” the door pulled open and the herald called out “Pavetta of Cintra!”  
And just on cue, her daughter walks in the room, pulling the attention of nobles with each step she took. She clearly inherited it from her mother, one of the rare traits Pavetta and Calanthe shared, along with the ash grey hair. While she was pleased with her daughter, she quickly turns away as Pavetta makes her way to the main table. There was no point in hearing her daughter complain about how outrageous it is that she must marry the red lout, Crach.  
“The only hope is that the pup might grow into someone with Eist Tuirseach's class. It's the same blood, after all.” She had told the Witcher and wished for it to be true. Forever the gregarious man, Eist was already pouring Pavetta a drink and making conversation. She sighs, somewhat relieved that she doesn’t have to endure Pavetta’s watery work. If the Witcher took the deal of course. 

She joins in the conversation on her left later on, glad to see Eist angry mood vanishes from his dark face. 

\--------------------

“If what he says is true,' Eist said grimly, 'then the promise will have to be kept.” He knows with all the sacrifice Calanthe has made for her daughter, giving Pavetta to a cursed stranger would never cross her mind. Especially not one that looks like a hedgehog and angers the Queen by his 'Law of Surprise' speech. 

“Is that so?” Her sarcasm did not go unnoticed. 

“Or am I to understand’ Eist lowers his voice, his tone more serious, 'that you treat all promises this lightly, including those which have etched themselves so deeply in my memory?” He has promised her his love and devotion, his loyalty and his respect, and even when it’s out of the blue or in the middle of heated training and arguments, he has meant it, always. But it was her promise that he wanted to know. 

“This is different, Eist!” She snapped, her head turns abruptly in his direction.  
“Is it, really?” He replies almost the same way Calanthe did. She pressed her lips in a thin line, a clear disapproval on her face. He didn’t need to say anything, his eyes conveyed all of his words ‘A promise must be honored, my love’. And she returns his message with a sharp glare, ‘this bloody castle can collapse on my head but I will not give Pavetta away’. Their telepathic conversation was interrupted right away.

\--------------------

“You kill them-” he leapt onto the middle of the room, knocking a man out and brandishing his dagger.  
“you kill me!” he roars. What came after was screams and grunt from both sides. He knows what he was getting into when he disobey the Queen’s order, smashing a chair into a lord’s temple. He didn’t want to choose destiny over Calanthe, but his honour betrays that thought as he threw himself at another knight. If the hedgehog knight was promised with a child of surprise, he must uphold the law. The Queen has risen from the throne, and if look could kill, it would have burned a hole in his chest.

It was impossible to have a grasp on the situation, everything was out of order, the castle turned into a wild circus. Not until the Witcher fell to the floor and chairs spun wildly above his head did he find the source of the ear splitting scream. Pavetta’s monotonous cry sending soldiers flying into walls.  
But what followed after was what truly terrified him. The heavy gold throne flew back like an arrow and smashed in half, sending pieces flying. Calanthe sliding down the floor sending him in frantic and fear. He abandons all rational thoughts and threw himself onto her, using his body as cover.  
The wailing was becoming louder, the ground shaking under him. He picks her up gently and wraps his arm around her frail body. He didn’t know if what he said into her ears made sense or not, but it felt right. She only whimpers and pressed herself closer to his torn clothes and his heart aches at the sound. 

\--------------------

It stops. She knows because there’s been yelling for medical care and because she could feel a hot kiss on her lips. The metallic taste in her mouth was replaced with the salt taste on Eist lips.  
“People are watching, Eist.” She said weakly but did not try to free herself from him, his touch bringing more comfort than ever. He kisses her again anyway, ‘let them watch’ he whispered. 

She gains back her control rather quickly, though she did reluctantly rely on Eist helping hands. She rests her hand on Pavetta’s soft cheek, red from crying and smiles. The anger and sadness she held for so long flowed freely like the river. Her only daughter has the Force within her, just like her grandmother. Tears have long dried on her face, but the new one threatens to fall as she looks at her daughter with the gift that skips her.  
“Destiny has spoken, and I have listened.” Her voice came out hoarse and tired, but clear enough for people to hear.  
“Pavetta will marry the Lord of Urcheon.” She announced loudly, and the court was once again erupted with murmurs and angry curses.

“React poorly, and you won’t just face the Lioness of Cintra, but the Sea Hound of Skellige!” Eist voice stops all the mumbling, his hand slowly resting behind her back. "For Queen Calanthe-" He looks at her, for only a split second, too fast for her to understand his intentions "has accepted my proposal of marriage." He finishes and she nearly gasp, but went for an eyebrow raised instead. She has not yet forgotten his confession of love while she lays on the floor with the pieces of her throne. But for him to make this declaration without a discussion, nobody could ever go that far. But it was her Eist, and her shock expression quickly turned into an amusing one.  
“There will be two vows tonight! Is that agreeable?” She turns to look at him, her smirk grows wider at his roguish grin and shining eyes. The feast was ending with an alliance between Skellige and Cintra, one way or another. And by the dirty looks nobleman throws at her as they back down, saying yes was indeed a very good idea.  
“Delightful” The four of them, hands in hands, moved by destiny and love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Open for criticism, I would love to improve my writing skills :)


	4. I am yours and yours only

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First night as wife and husband.  
> P/s: Mousesack being helpful and appreciated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the theory of Skellige having many wives sorta work. Or is it not a theory?

The warm light from the candles did not make the cold chair any more comfortable. Her body stiffen, trying to hold back a yawn. To give her daughter to Destiny was hard enough. But to accept that her grandchild will soon be in the hand of a witcher, meeting the same fate as her mother? There's no way she can sleeps on that. And it seems like the most cruel joke God has thrown in her face. 

“Your majesty?” Mousesack eyebrow knit in confusion, it appears that she has missed his question, too busy wrapping in her own sorrow thought.  
“How can I be at your service, your majesty?” He asks again, lighting another candle to bring more light. She didn’t quite remember why she knocked on the Druid’s chamber, she can only remember the hot fury in her body right after Duny has promised Geralt his unborn child. She regretted giving them their stupid blessings, wanting to shove a sword in Duny’s gut instead. 

But she smiled, like she always does. She smiled when the young lovers had their wedding in the smashed throne room caused by the Force’s havoc. She smiled when they kissed each other everywhere, despite people in the room watching. But each time she pulls the muscle on her face to smile, her anger control worsens. If it weren't for the Jarl of Skellige hand on her shoulder, she might have thrown some punches. 

Hers and Eist were quick, for the sake of formality and traditions. Yet she remembers everything. From the way his hand squeezed hers to the way he studied her features intensely throughout the wedding. The way wedding vows sound so delicate on his lips, like it’s the realest thing in the world. It ended with a chaste kiss on her lips and the promise of an incredibly strong army, claps echoed in the room. She would actually have enjoyed tonight a bit better if there wasn't a constant pain jabbing at her side. 

“Mousesack . . . I've bruised my backbone. And thereabouts.” She snaps back to focus once she knows why she’s here at an ungodly hour. From the pain that was escalating to every part of her body, she knows it wouldn’t be wise to wait for another night.  
The druid from Skellige immediately caught on the situation “At your command, your majesty.” He said without missing a heartbeat, already reaching for his potion and wand. 

“While we’re here, I have a proposition for you, Mousack.” She said after a long silence.  
“Pavetta is going to need a teacher and ought to learn how to use her gift. The position is yours, how about it?” Her anger at Pavetta and Duny has subside somewhat after Mousesack numb the pain. And she loves her castle too much to let the Lioness and her cub’s temper bring it down. Mousesack only took a few moments in consideration before he smiled. 

“It would be an honour, your Majesty.” She nods at the large bearded man and stands up from his study chair once everything is done. Despite his suggestion, she refuses his elixir, she never needs any healing potion to heal after battle. Some bruised bones won’t be a problem. 

“Good. At least I can trust you to give me the ideal answer that I expect.” She said bitterly, recalling the times she had to repeat herself to so many stubborn man. She was halfway through the Druid’s guest chamber when she realized her indecorum “Thank you, Mousesack, for your service.” Having Mousesack in her court will be useful, his wisdom and loyalty bring her at ease. He thanks her with a bow and they bid goodnight. 

She was half running when she’s out of all the servant’s eyes. The hallway of Cintra is a narrow and tricky place to navigate but that was no reason to slow the Queen down. She knows this place like the back of her hand, even with only the dim moonlight as guidance. She arrives at her chamber to a shirtless Eist with an irritated face.  
Patient was a skill neither Eist and Calanthe mastered, and she couldn’t help but smile against Eist’s frustrated grunt as he claims her mouth with his.  
\-------------------------

“If you leave your husband alone for so long, he might think you have replaced him with another, my love.” He said after pulling away, his hand plant firmly behind her back, keeping her close. She smirks and teases his lower lips with her teeth.  
“What if I have?” She whispered and he chuckles, his hand travelling lower and resting just on her hips.  
“Isn’t it custom for a Skellige man to have many wives? I would love to challenge the system.” She continues airily, laughing out loud at the shock look on Eist’s face. She instinctively reaches out to rest her hand on his face, her thumb tracing his cheekbone and jawline. He leans in and she lets her hand get lost in his brown curls.  
“I will never take another woman, because I am yours and yours only.” He said as his lips traced soft kiss on her collarbone. She hummes and tilted her head, giving him more entries.

“My beloved Calanthe, your bravery, your beauty. It is beyond any man’s desire.” He murmured, his hand carelessly tracing her back. She wanted to tease him mockingly that perhaps he wouldn’t be able to handle such beauty but his searing kiss once again occupied her lips, each time more wanting than the last. The intense lust she felt and the adrenaline, both from his tongue dancing in her mouth and the event prior bring out the Lioness in her. Roegner was a gentle man, and there was never enough love to let them make any sudden risky moves. But she was sure that the sea hound of Skellige wouldn’t mind her boldness when he groans deeply in response to her pressing him up against the chamber door. She lets her hand travel inside his breech and graze his treasure, making them moan from pleasure. 

“Oh Calanthe......my dear wife, I-” He broke off their kiss again to whispers breathlessly in her ear but she pulled him down, crashing their lips hard together. She lets out a dangerous grunt of command, hand grabbing his member. He takes in a sharp breath and even that arouses her to a next level.  
“Put your silver tongue to work, or to hell I would-” It was her turn to be silenced, Eist wasted no time after her consent, already half way through unlacing her dress. She lets him carry her to the edge of the bed, and everything stops. It might just been a minute or not much longer, but it was enough for Calanthe to feel her heart thumping against her chest. The way his eyes rest on her naked form for the first time, undressing another layer of her body that nobody can. Her body aches for contact, but she says nothing, even if her hot bare flesh is begging for him. Not until he licks his lip slowly did she spread her legs wide and leans back. 

She closes her eyes, letting go of her sight, her awareness, her guard. It was then that the burning sensation took over her, making her gasp in pleasure. She had no doubt that her husband was skillful with the task of pleasing, just like he is with sailing. But it was still shocking how tender he can be, his tongue on her thigh, his heart on his sleeves. 

“I am yours and yours only.” It was the last thing she heard. The first thing she felt was his tongue on the lip of her sex. The rest was history. History of incoherent screaming and moaning. The night stretches, sometimes it was her riding him, sometimes it was him behind her, memory and pleasure blurs together. And no matter how many times they have come, floor, mattress, bed sheet, body, mouth, they refuse to stop. There are times where she roars, like a real lioness, knuckle white from gripping on whatever she could find. There are times where he has to pull out, separate himself from her to stop them stumbling over edges. 

Then her strengths finally leave her, not a visible shed of power in her muscle. Still on top of him, the 4th time, she allows herself to drop her head on his shoulder and sobs. His calloused hand found her immediately, the other stroking her back. 

“Did I hurt you? Oh bloody hell, you have to tell me when to stop, Calanthe.” He shifts his body, letting her settle comfortably on his chest while he whispers his apology to her ears. "I never wish to hurt you my dear, I never wish to see you in pain. Tell me how I can fix this. It won't happen again." His affection did nothing so soothe her, only to make her feel like weeping harder. But she holds it, bites her tongue and swallows her cry. 

“You didn’t hurt me, Eist.” She finally speaks, her voice lighter than feather itself. “Not against my will.” She adds, and feels his tense shoulder drop, his arm still wrapping tightly around her body. 

“Then what is it? Did I do something wrong?” He asks warily, and she pushes herself up to make eye contact with him. She brings one hand on his sweaty cheek and fixes his messy curls. 

“I’m pleased, Tuirseach. Pleased and satisfied.” He did not look convinced, his hand still delicately spelling out words. One of them being ‘sorry’, and she shakes her head.  
“I’m happy. I’m happy and in love.” She tried again, and it did sound okay as it rolls off her tongue. She was shocked how natural it felt. If he was surprise, he did not show. Instead he leans forward to kiss her forehead. 

“I love you.” He kissed the tears on her left cheek. “I love you.” He kissed the one on her right. “I love you.” This time he kisses her on the lip, lingering on her lips, slow, soft and steady. While she was uncertain to say those words, Eist has no problem expressing how much he cares about her. He said it with no inclination that she must say it back. 

“I will never love another woman like I love you, I promise.” He finishes the sentence and she only smiles softly, couldn’t bring herself to open her mouth. She brings their intertwined hand up instead, kissing each and every knuckle on his large hand. She missed the council meeting that morning, but it was inevitable after they both collapsed from exhaustion.  
\-------------------------

He did keep true to his promise, never laid his eye on any other woman but his Queen. But a few months from now, there would be a newborn girl in his life that would give him a new kind of love, the one so strong that shocks him to the core. She knows so just by looking at his wrinkly smile.  
That's a tale for another night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was in the middle of writing the smut and I was like this is beyond my capability and the tension is too much haha. I'm sure your imagination are much better than mine. I'm trying to add more than just dialogue and editing again and again but welp, this thing is hard. How on Earth do you people write so good, I will never know.


	5. Meant to be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What has it been, a week since their marriage? Yet it feels so natural, the 3 years before their friendship blossomed into lasting romance, the teasing and the flirting, the way she fits perfectly in his arm. It’s meant to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a sucker for number 5 so you know, it bugged me so much that I had to stay up and write this crappy fluffy piece. 
> 
> P.s: uhm, English is not my first language and grammar is my arch-nemesis so if there’s any mistake, please turn a blind eye XP

Their second time didn’t happen until a few nights later, not that he got any rights to complain, Pavetta’s betrothal was a stack of work. Works that he managed to escape thanks to the sparring sessions with a Cintran squire. He ought to be ashamed of his lack of focus and losing to an inexperienced fighter, but he was too busy assuring the chap that he won’t lose his head to the Lioness or her husband. He chuckles, recalling the lad’s pale face while he apologised profusely, a nice bloke he is - Mark if he remembered correctly. 

“Someone seems rather happy despite having his ego bruised by a 14 years old child.” Calanthe walks in just as he was putting on his linen shirt, and the way her eyes held intensely with his, she definitely wishes for him to do the opposite. He smirks, knowing what the night awaits, his skin tingling under the shirt and his body warm up just by her presence, even in the cold winter.

“Rusty, my love.” He offers her the simplest reason that pops in his head, leaning back on his arm and watching his wife struts over the table holding the Cintran ale. Her hip sway with each powerful step she takes, even just from one side of the room to the other and he traces them hungrily. Her gold tight dress shines like the heavy crown she sets on the desk, and he desperately wants to see the sparkling chocolate eyes too. She doesn’t dwell on the matter or his poor excuse and pours herself two goblets of wine.

“How bad?” He grins at the sight of Calanthe huffing and drowning the ale less than a second. Even the slightest of her movements make her seem like a Goddess, an aggressive and scary one. But a beautiful one, nonetheless.

“An asshead suggested that I should, and I quote ‘leave the stinky pirate’ and marry his pathetic nephew because ‘we’re the dawn of night and light in the dark’.” She rolls her eyes and slips out of the outer layer of her dress. Calanthe wasted no time to straddle his lap and busy herself right away in kissing his jaw and below his earlobe. While he took no offense at the man’s word, he still holds a weird disdain toward this stranger and has a desire to slap the man out of his delusional mind. He settles for an offhand ‘how poetic’ instead, and it earns him a delightful laugh from his Queen.

“It would have been much more tolerable with you by my side.” She licks her bottom lip and he takes his cue by leaning forward, his tongue more than welcome dancing with hers. He brushes his finger past her nipple, and she lets out a light, breathy sigh, even through the constricted fabric. When they pull away to catch their breath, she pulls off his pants and linen shirt with no difficulty while he efficiently releases her off the uncomfortable corset. His right hand lingers and brushes against the exposed skin, toying with the string while his left rests on her hips and massaging her in circular motion. 

“My unfortunate accident may pull me out of Court Business for a while, my dear.” He attempts to smile innocently at her, though he knows it would never fool her. A small pause and he adds “Mousesack’s order” quietly as an afterthought. He did indeed beg his druid to write him a note, saying one could never be so sure when convincing the Lioness of Cintra. ‘Don’t go for my head’ was all the druid has said while scribbling messily on a piece of paper. 

She stares at him for only a short amount of time, contemplating if she should chastise him for his lack of presence in politics or go along with his game. It was long enough for him to take off the rest of her corset and a silent relief passed through her stiff shoulder. It was also long enough for him to feel her smooth and bare flesh in his hand and heartbeats thumping in his ears. 

“It’s such a pity, but you’re right.” Her tone is carefully even, but the glint in her eyes tells an entire different story. The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t get to be smug for long. 

She tucked a piece of his unruly hair back “You need rest from both forum and marital activities.” and proceed to climb off him, excruciatingly slow. 

“It’s alright my Queen, my bruise only aches when dealing with a bunch of dim-witted arrogant doddypoll.” She bites her cheek and smacks his chest when he squeezes her buttock back to him. What has it been, a week since their marriage? Yet it feels so natural, the 3 years before their friendship blossomed into lasting romance, the teasing and the flirting, the way she fits perfectly in his arm. It’s meant to be. 

“I don’t get why you bother with my title in bed yet refuse to address me anything but Calanthe during last night's banquet.” She recaptured his lips once again, her tone held nothing but playful tease and amusement. So far, this kiss has been the most urgent, all teeths and claws, the last piece of information before his mind went blissfully blank. 

“Lord of …. Couldn’t stop staring at -” He whispered breathlessly, unable to remember the nincompoop’s title, only what body part of his wife had the man’s sole attention. She sucks in a sharp breath when he twirls her left nipple in his mouth and pushes him down the bed with her knee when he bites it with his teeth. 

He grimaced involuntarily, the bruise has not yet appeared between where the rib and the wooden sword met but the discomfort was already there. This Mark was a small boy with incredible force, almost as strong as the Skelligen boys his age.

“Am I the dull doddypoll?” She feigned surprise but moved so her knees rested against the bedspread on either side of his hips. He laughed softly, his hands pulled her down and let their forehead touch before kissing her lazily. It was his way of saying _‘Everyone is an utter idiot except for you, my dear.’_

“How’s Pavetta?” He asks when they pull away, their cheek pressed together, but the contact of his hard member under the breech pressing against her bottom was more than distracting. 

“We’re in the middle of consummating and you’re thinking of my daughter. Should I be alarmed?” It was then his turn to roll his eyes, something that was mainly Calanthe’s occupation. There was a long silence between the two before she finally answered. 

“She’s fine, morning sickness mostly, I’ve been through that before. It will pass and she will be able to control the force with Mousesack around.” He nods, satisfied to let the answer slide away and continue with pursuing their affair but Calanthe pulls on his breech a bit forcefully so he raises an eyebrow and she stills. 

“Duny is just a pain, no origin, no title, he’s no one and from nowhere. At least that damn Roegner was a duke. They have one thing in common though, making stupid mistakes and let me clean up the mess.” The way she speaks of the two man’s name with venom makes him want to pull her down and hug her again, but he settles with soothing motion on her back. The action while small, seem utterly wrong, what was he required to do, what should he say? 

“You’ll need to warm up to him one day.” He winces internally, surely that was the wrong thing to say. You cannot tell the Lioness about what she should and shouldn’t do. _You don’t have to clean up the mess alone_ would have been much more appropriate and romantic, he concludes. 

“That warm up can wait. I have other pressing matters.” She smirks, unfazed by his comment. And just for emphasis, she pushes down rougher than usual, nails leaving way more crescent moon shape on his chest. And he can do nothing but repeat her name like a prayer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, I end with the ‘fade to black’, so proud.
> 
> P.s: I had to search up old-fashioned words for idiots. This is a secret only you are allowed to know. I’m such a muttonhead XP

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading xx


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